Fable: The Architect
by Wes Green
Summary: The architect is about...well you have draw your own conclusions. There are plenty of clues along the way. I would be interested to see what people come up with. Really great fun writing and I hope you guys appreciate how the stories tie up a few loose ends as well. please read in the order chapter 0-2-1. Thanks!
1. Chapter 0

As the woman passed the gate she would always get an intense feeling of relaxation immediately. It washed over her whole body like a warm bath. You could tell that this area was infused with calmness and love.

_So this is it._

She stood at the foot of the hill and tried to make the most of all it had to offer, given the unfortunate reason she had come to be here. She could feel the cobbled path through her thin leather shoes. She appreciated the shape of the cobbles and the nostalgic feeling she got whilst treading on them. In the distance the windmill was slowing rotating as it always had. Its blades cutting the rays of the light from the sun that shone on the cottage. She took a deep breath.

_At least it is here. He deserves that._

She headed towards the building at the top of the small hill. As she reached the well she noticed that the bucket had been left in the well again.

_Why does the young boy do that?_

She proceeded to wind the crank that hoisted the bucket up from the well. She was surprised how long it took her to wind it to the top. It must have been quite deep. It was rather difficult as the cranks handle was badly dented and had certainly seen better days. Satisfied that the bucket was now in the correct place, she continued her journey up the path slowly.

She took a minute to bask in the various shades of bright green grass and trees and was always shocked at how perfectly peaceful it felt here.

_Yes. This is the perfect place._

As she got to the front of the cottage, she noticed the chickens had all made haste to make their presence known to her. They had all burst out of their coops and were clucking and wafting their small wings in a frenzied way.

_They must be hungry. They probably haven't been fed for days._

She was right. They ate the grain she put out for them with furious velocity. Clucking loudly and happily as they did.

_I remember when we used to kick chickens as children…... What dreadful children we were._

She smirked at the thought as she made her way into the cottage.

The cottage inside appeared gloomy. The shutters to the windows were left ajar only letting in a small amount of light. There was a thin layer of dust on the table in front of her adding to the bleakness. There were dirty cutlery and plates left in the sink basin. The stagnant water that surrounded the items was brown and smelt of old cheese.

She moved around in the once inviting family cottage. She held various trophies and pictures that had been collected over the years and proudly displayed on seemingly every available space in the cottage.

She gently touched an old trophy.

_He always loved to collect junk._

She found herself smiling again as she continued to thumb various items scattered about.

It was going to be dark soon and a fire hadn't been lit.

_That young boy has one job to do and doesn't even do that._

She turned to the fireplace and set to work starting a fire that would warm the house for the night.

_I don't want him to be cold._

She heard a floorboard creak close by.

"Hello boy." She said continuing to start the fire.

"I know why you're here. You only come when something significant is happening" The young boy said louder than was required.

The woman remained silent.

"He's going to die tonight, I know it. He is so weak now, so old. He's asleep now I've kissed him goodnight."

The boy no older then twelve had always been incredibly clever and would always work out situations around him quicker than the average boy.

The woman interrupted the boy. "Why do you leave the bucket at the bottom of the well?" she wanted to steer the topic on to something else for now.

"The Bucket?" the boy said confused.

"Yes. On my last visit months ago I noticed the bucket was left at the bottom of the well and today the same again. Would you care to explain?"

"I get bored, I must occupy myself somehow." the boy said looking at his feet sheepishly.

His black-haired quiff flopping over his face as he did.

Before the woman had a chance to reply he said.

"From my window I shoot pebbles at the crank handle with my catapult. I guess it eventually lowers the bucket all the way down. I won't do it again." The boy looked genuinely apologetic.

The woman stopped tending to the beginnings of the fire she made and faced the boy.

_He repeatedly hits a crank handle one inch think from 50 feet away with a catapult out of his bedroom window?_

"Do you hit the crank handle every time?" she asked inquisitively.

"Yes…" the boy said without a shadow of doubt and an undertone of cockiness.

The woman realised that she may have previously underestimated the boy's abilities. Possibly with his father being of ill health, she had failed to notice the boy's skill or potentially had focused too much on the young boy's much older brothers and sisters who had all left the family home decades earlier. This child had ability and needed to be nurtured. She never thought much of the boy when he was dropped off with a note saying "It's yours" for the old man to find.

"What will I do?" the boy said. He was starting to get upset. She could hear the beginnings of a crackle in his voice.

"I will make sure you are OK young one" the woman said reassuringly.

"Thank you." the boy said, as he ran over to the woman and hugged her. He started to weep.

"It's not fair, why is he so old? Why is he so weak?" the boy said through muffled cries.

"This is the way of things boy." She whispered as she embraced him.

"No it's not, and you know it isn't. It's not fair." The boy pulled away and nearly tripped over an overturned stew pot as he left the cottage running down the path towards the gate.

_I must nurture his ability._

She placed one last log onto the fire before setting off up the stairs.

_So this is it._

The creaking of the floorboards was enough to wake anyone. As she got to the top of the stairs, she saw him laid in his bed. He appeared to be wrapped up well.

_At least the boy had done something for his father._

He lay there so peaceful. She almost didn't want to approach, didn't want to disturb his rest.

"You are here…." The man said in his low powerful tone.

"I am...I am always here. You know that." she moved close to the man and grasped his hand.

They were old hands. Scarred from years of battles and frail due to the course of time. The power these hands once held had gone forever. She gently squeezed his hand.

"It was worth it you know." He said looking at her showing that smile that he had melted hundreds of woman's hearts with over the years.

The woman smiled back.

"I will watch all your children. I know what they are capable of." She rubbed his shoulder gently.

"And the boy..?" He said.

"and the boy….. I will ensure he has a nice childhood and his skills are developed." The woman smiled again.

"Ill even make sure there are chickens to kick." She joked softly.

The large man smiled and as he did a single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Thank you."

His breathing had become strained and irregular. She realised that the end was coming soon.

"And you…?" he asked with shallow breath.

"I will continue to watch."

"I bet.." he said smiling again.

"I….I have this weapon… Please can you pass it on?"

She looked next to the bed where a weapons stand stood. There was a massive jewelled axe sitting on the frame.

"To the boy?" she said confused.

"It didn't choose him. It contains amazing power. It can only be used by the hero the weapon chooses. I know you'll find out who can wield it."

"I will." She said with absolute honesty.

"It won't be long now… I can feel it… The weight of the world is lifting….It's peaceful."

He closed his eyes. He whispered softly.

"I love you….always have." His chest movements stopped and with that he had left this world.

The woman sat there for a few moments continuing to rub the man's shoulder and squeeze his lifeless hand.

She stood up. She spent a time making sure that he was wrapped up tightly and neatly.

"I love you too" she kissed him on the forehead and wiped the tear that had rolled down his cheek.

She picked up the axe.

"Good bye Hero"

As she left the cottage, she placed the axe in the chest.

_It will choose someone someday._

It was beginning to turn dark and the warmth from the sun was beginning to fade away.

As she walked down the path, she saw the young boy still crying sat on a rock.

"Is it finished?" he gasped.

"It is." She said holding back her own tears.

She reached for the boy's hand and took it firmly. She pulled him up and began to head towards the gate.

"What will I do now?" he said.

"You're going to re-build our house." she said to the boy. She had never been so certain of anything in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

He sat there thinking. It felt like he'd been there forever. Day after day after day.

_I'm like a glorified guard._

Still, it was better then some of the others he'd heard about. At least here he got some passing trade every once and a while.

_So to speak._

It was gloomy and cold. Like it always was everyday. He could remember when it used to be warm and bright. He could still hear the laughter from the children and smell the roasted hog on a nearby fire. They were great times. It was always busy always full of life.

_All gone now._

A loud croak could be heard nearby.

_There does seem to be a lot of toads recently. I must do something about that. I don't want toads on the path. Could put the punters off._

"Shuuue, you vile creatures" he said with a forceful tone.

He heard another croak.

_Is this what I've become? Resorting to shouting at toads? How humiliating._

He was silent which felt like two or three days.

_It possibly was._

Time moved fast for him. It was raining again and the gloom and fog was particularly bad today.

_What I would give to see loads of people here again. Like old times. It would be so great 1, 2….no 10 at least that would be amazing._

"Instead I have you lot" he said into the darkness. He didn't hear any croaks in reply.

"Bugger you then" he said as if he'd expected a response from a group of frogs.

"Bugger who?" a voice said in return.

He recognised the voice instantly. One of his regular punters. Regular was anything from 1 to 10 years. He was relived that he had a "Punter" it had been such a long time even if it was this one who he was never fond of. The punter was holding a massive bunch of fresh flowers and wearing his massive distinct smirk.

"Well? Bugger who old chap?" the punter said.

"The toads" he replied.

The punter started laughing as he did he flicked a few loose black haisr back that had fallen over his face

"Are you serious? You lot get stranger and stranger over the years. It's all terribly worrying really"

"Why are you here again B…?"

The punter interrupted abruptly.

"Now Now….I have a new name and don't respond to the old one now. Terribly boring. You surely know that by now?"

"You're looking old." He said to the punter with an air of humour knowing it would irritate him.

"You think so? Well I will have to address that then wont I?"

The punter patted some dust off what looked like a very expensive pair of trousers.

"I don't care for this place." The punter said whilst continuing to pat off the remaining marks.

"You don't? That's funny you must have a short memory, you posh bugger"

"That's quite enough of that old boy I don't care for your tone either. This hell hole technically isn't my fault after all" The punter started to arrange the flowers he was holding happily.

Before he had a chance to reply the punter spoke softly

"Of course I'm here to pay my respects, such a lady deserves it I think it may be time to get her a new gravestone, the flowers keep falling over whenever I visit.""

"You can't visit her not this time" he said loud and clear.

_I'm like a glorified guard._

"I can and I will. Move aside or our three mutual friends may have to get involved. You know exactly what they're capable of" the punters face was contoured into a twist of annoyance.

_He did know exactly what they were capable of and it scared him._

"Very well, but only 5 minutes" he said defeated.

"Thank you kind sir, I just want to give her these lovely flowers and then I'll be on my way."

_Aye….. I bet you will…. to go find the next poor soul._


	3. Chapter 1

The once vibrant and welcoming little village that had stood for generations was decaying. The sky had darkened and the clear refreshing winds had turned in to low lying fog. The soil once fertile had grown stagnant, putrid and soggy.

_The last of the crops were dying._

It was hard to believe that only a week before this place was still a Haven to many far and wide across Albion.

_What had changed?_

The villagers had already started to leave for other villages and towns. People who were renting properties were packing up and moving on. Unfortunately for the poor villagers who had lived in and owned cottages in the village their only option was to stay.

"It's just a temporary thing…" was often overhead in casual conversations around the village.

The old woman knew different though. It wasn't a temporary thing. It was only the start of the process. She knew that after the land died and the villages moved out the terrors that a wait would move in. She needed to warn her young son. She needed to get him out.

She had been crawling and climbing, walking and stumbling for days. She had finally made it out of the cavern and towards the village.

_Not far now. I need to stay focused._

The old woman's bones ached as she made her way towards their cottage. The night was cold and hazy. She felt the cold more now then before. It felt as though it penetrated her bones. It made her shiver while she paced on slowly on.

_I'm not sure how long I'm going to last. If I can just warn him and tell him to leave this place…._

As she made her way to the gate her right ankle give out and she stumbled to the floor in pain.

She started to cry in frustration and cried out

"Come on…why? why….did this happen to me?.."

_"You're special. You're the first. I will always remember that."_

That's what he said afterwards. That vile man. The thought of it sickened her down in her stomach.

She took a minute to gather some of her remaining energy. Previously she always had lots of energy before he changed her. Her anger fuelled her aching limbs to drive her back onto her feet and complete the remaining stretch of her journey.

As she reached the front door she caught her reflection in a near by window. The old withered woman looking back at her made her wretch.

"HOW?" she shouted.

She felt her knees go weak and then she fell on the door step.

"Mother?" came the voice of a young man.

The young man put the pen down that he was using to write in his diary. He always kept a diary ever since he was a young child.

"Is that you mother? Where have you been for this past week? I've been so worried."

The young man got to the front door to discover the old woman laying on the steps. He picked her up and placed her on a chair just inside the entrance if the cottage.

At first he didn't recognise the old woman. It was only when she spoke.

"Terrance, my lovely young man. You need to…"

The man was shocked. "MOTHER? What happened to you?"

The old woman's voice was now a whisper. "I don't have long son. Please you must…..try…."

The man was now hysterical crying and hugging the old woman in the chair.

"I don't understand, what happened? Who did this? Was it a spell mother? Did you cast a spell? Did you get a spell from one of your special books? Please mother! Tell me I will make it right." He hugged the woman tighter.

He looked at the woman her face in his hands "Mother what do I need to do? Tell me?"

"Son…. you need…. to…." Her voice faded away.

Her eyes were left open fixated on his.

"Mother?...Mother? MOTHER?NOOOOOO"

He shock the old woman. He cried. he punched a nearby pillar. The woman had gone.

The man through angry gritted teeth mumbled.

"I must. I must make this OK mother…..Your books. I will make it right with your books. You can't leave me mother who will watch over me?"

The man frantically ran upstairs to his mother's room and broke the lock to her closet where she kept her secret books.

_Yes the powerful spell books. This will make it all better._

"I wont lose you mother. I need you!" he screamed into the darkness of the room.

_"You must never read the books Terrence."_ A vague memory of his mother entered his head.

He picked up a book and for a moment contemplated reading it. He knelt on the floor and realized he was too scared. Without his mother he was nothing. Had nothing. He knelt there crying for hours and hours.

He awoke the next day still holding a random book. He placed the book on his bed as he plunked up the courage to go downstairs.

The corpse was peaceful. Still sat in the chair. Eyes open. He went over to to his mother and closed her eye lids.

_She felt cold. Lifeless._

It still shocked him how old she looked.

_How? How did it happen?_

As he dug the grave he noticed that his hands were bleeding through the blisters that had formed from the old spade handle. He didn't feel it though. He was numb. He wasn't anything anymore. He placed his mothers corpse in the grave and covered her over with soil.

He sat on the mound weeping for two days before going into the cottage for water. Weeks past like a clock ticking. He felt every single second every single painful thought that his mother was dead and he'd done nothing about it.

_I haven't even left the house haven't told anyone. But then I don't have anyone. No family, no friends no mother…_

He fell asleep crying again.

He woke in the night in a cold sweet. He dreamt that his mother was dying again and that she had said "You need to use my spells to save me" before she died. Of course he could never have known what she was going to say but he decided that he needed to do something….. anything.

He felt under his bed for the spell book he'd placed there the night she died. As he read the pages out loud he didn't feel like he was practicing magic or if anything was happening at all. He placed the spell book down and for the first time in weeks got his diary out and updated it with recent events.

Suddenly he heard a loud banging sound from outside his window.

_That sounds like our gate._

He made his way out the back of the cottage to find indeed that the gate had been opened.

_How strange._

Beyond the gate he noticed a small opening that he had never noticed before. It seemed to have materialized out of no where. As he made his way into the cavern he could feel his loneliness leaving him. Every cell in his body was telling him to go deeper into the cavern.

As he entered the cavern he felt safer. It felt like home. There was a strange blue light that lit the cavern which made him feel calm."

"Is there anyone there?" he said into the cavern.

"We will watch over you" The large figure said who was stood in front of him. His voice sounded like a child's and an old mans mixed together somehow. It wasn't heard it was felt….

"You will?...My….Mother….she…." the young man wanted to tell him everything He could tell that he was kind and he was going to look after him.

"We will all watch over you" a group of them said.

The young man noticed that there were more of them now. With each new figure he counted in the cavern the better he felt.

"Thank you all...My mother…" he was interrupted.

"We will watch over all of them" the figure said.

"Over who? The villagers? That would be so kind of you. They have been having terrible things happen to them recently. Maybe you could help them fix their problems? You are so kind. Thank you. Can you help mother?" the young man was smirking and excited.

"We will watch over all of them" all the figures seem to say at the same time.

The young man hadn't felt so happy in weeks. It was a relief. He knew that they were here to help him. As he left the cavern he noticed that they were already outside. They wanted to watch him make sure he didn't trip over near the rocks. As he made his way into the cottage he noticed they were already in the house. Arranged neatly around the first floor. They wanted to ensure that he was OK. As he made his way up to his bedroom he felt so happy that he was been watched.

He lay in his bed. Clutching his diary. The figures joined him. Making sure that he was alright. Just watching him write in his diary.

_Just watching him sleep._


End file.
